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Slapnut
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I know there’s a thread about dates in Gold, but I thought a resurrection was in order.

I’ve just got home from a Tinder date. I initially had plans with her on Friday, but she text me earlier asking if I fancied a drink at a local Spoons. I had no plans, so I agreed. She seemed like a really nice girl from the admittedly vague interactions we’ve had so far. Trainee tax advisor, good sense of humour, and she has a lovely looking dog.

What stood in front of me when I entered Spoons couldn’t have been further from my expectations.

She was clearly already quite pissed, and ten minutes after arriving I hadn’t managed to get a word in. Within half an hour I found out that she was on coke, and not long after she decided to tell me she’s a bit of a crack addict. Lovely.

I spent a good half an hour in total hiding in the toilet planning my escape. Lovely toilets in the Spoons on City Road in Cardiff, mind.

I’ve never been so happy to be home alone after a date. Now I just have to figure out how to cancel our Friday plans.

Any bad date stories?

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44 minutes ago, Slapnut said:

I know there’s a thread about dates in Gold, but I thought a resurrection was in order.

I’ve just got home from a Tinder date. I initially had plans with her on Friday, but she text me earlier asking if I fancied a drink at a local Spoons. I had no plans, so I agreed. She seemed like a really nice girl from the admittedly vague interactions we’ve had so far. Trainee tax advisor, good sense of humour, and she has a lovely looking dog.

What stood in front of me when I entered Spoons couldn’t have been further from my expectations.

She was clearly already quite pissed, and ten minutes after arriving I hadn’t managed to get a word in. Within half an hour I found out that she was on coke, and not long after she decided to tell me she’s a bit of a crack addict. Lovely.

I spent a good half an hour in total hiding in the toilet planning my escape. Lovely toilets in the Spoons on City Road in Cardiff, mind.

I’ve never been so happy to be home alone after a date. Now I just have to figure out how to cancel our Friday plans.

Any bad date stories?

The shits. No-one questions the shits

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This is a bit of a weird one. I am currently staying in London for the week for work and I got a bumble notification saying I got a like. When it does this you get a small photo of them. So I open the app up and from the photos she is an absolutely smoking hot Polish woman. So I decided to match with her.

This morning I woke up to a message from her. Explaining that her and her husband would like to meet up for drinks. That if I meshed with them would I be cool to fuck her whilst he watched and possibly recorded it. Do I want to go through with cuckolding some dude while he jerks it?

Edited by Rey_Piste
Autocorrect changed Polish to Asian.
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Got talking to a lovely looking lass back in my first year of uni. From our initial online interactions, she came across as a beautiful creature and had a great sense of humour. I was on the film course and she was on the photography course at the same Uni, so it seemed like a good match. 

The key there is that she was a photography student and had quite blatantly photoshopped herself to such a degree I was sure I was getting catfished. I have no problem whatsoever with a pleasantly plump pearler, and though you shouldn't speak ill of the fairer sex she was an absolute state. Pretty sure she was already drunk as well. They say don't judge a book by it's cover, but when that cover has been blatantly fabricated I think you know there's no possible good that can come from reading it.

We got sat down and amazingly I had a call from work, think it was about swapping shifts the following week or something along those lines - but to me it was as if they'd given me a promotion. I took the call and said I'd go to the bar while she saves the seats...I never returned. 

I should have been more of a gentleman, seen it through and thanked her for a nice time and have done with it. Ignoring the calls and messages was the hardest part. I felt like a real prick initially.

Karma would soon come back to bite me though - about a week later we had a faculty assembly and sure enough, there she was. The announcement that the film and photography departments would be collaborating together on a special project did NOT go down well in my inner monologue. 

Sure enough we were split into groups and sure enough, guess who should end up in the same sodding group. Oh, brother. Sure enough, a foul-mouthed tirade followed, giving it the big'un in front of her photography posse. But when I pointed out that she'd blatantly messed with her pictures she didn't have a leg to stand on. 

And then funnily enough, I moved into another group for that project and through one of them, a couple of years later, I met the current Mrs. Facesitter. 

I'm not sure if good dates count in this thread - but the night I met the current Mrs. Facesitter was actually valentines day 2011. We had an absolute ball, and when I also found out she liked wrestling I thought I'm onto a winner here. It was a Monday night and I cunningly suggested after the night was winding down we could watch Raw live at mine. We caught the tail end of it and sure enough, The Rock made his big return ahead of hosting that year's Wrestlemania. Three days later we had a first 'official' date as such. We were official by the end of that week and we're still on the go now.

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9 minutes ago, Fatty Facesitter said:

I'm not sure if good dates count in this thread - but the night I met the current Mrs. Facesitter was actually valentines day 2011. We had an absolute ball, and when I also found out she liked wrestling I thought I'm onto a winner here. It was a Monday night and I cunningly suggested after the night was winding down we could watch Raw live at mine. We caught the tail end of it and sure enough, The Rock made his big return ahead of hosting that year's Wrestlemania. Three days later we had a first 'official' date as such. We were official by the end of that week and we're still on the go now.

Fantastic mate, that's a great story. The best wrestling-related romance since Randy & Liz!

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Mrs. Facesitter is a top drawer name for a dominatrix, if you don't mind me saying. 

I was one of those dudes who always used to get a wee bit tipsy before anything prearranged. It's mortifying thinking back on some of them, now that I'm comfortable in my own skin, but there you go. I never showed up unfit for service or anything like that, but I had terrible anxiety about meeting girls without the whole social lubrication of having just chanced on them during a night out. The few hours before a date would invariably be spent avoiding food and having a few drinks with my housemates. They usually never amounted to much and as soon as the girl had left I'd let all the air out of my chest, feel a huge relief that it was just over, and proceed to guzzle the rest of the night away by myself. 

Sounds miserable, I know, but it's funny to look back on. There's even a tinge of nostalgia for that brief period where the histrionics of my own life crashed head on with the revolution that was Tinder. Midweeks became really interesting for awhile, there. 

I fell in with a German au pair using it. She hated the family she was staying with so crashed in mine for a bit. She was good looking but we were both clearly not hugely into one another. I ended up returning the favor and visiting her a few months later, anyway, because it was Hamburg, she had a free room and that's just what my life was like at the time. She was unbelievably, unbelievably dull and quite condescending towards any taste she wasn't into. The full weight of that only really hit me once in Germany. On our last morning there she dropped the N bomb describing some of the people in the city on our way to the zoo. It was the most surreal, miserable morning of my life. Hungover to the point of sickness, watching Germans throwing nuts and pieces of fruit into a monkey enclosure with my racist fräulein.

It was bargain basement dating site Plenty of Fish I met my girlfriend on, in the end. A year and eight months now and we're pretty much sorted for good. 

It was the first date I ever went on where I got a green tea in the pub. 

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Not really a 'first date' but the first time me and my now-missus met at a club night, she had to ask me if I was gay as my faux-stoic demeanor was confusing her.

It wasn't that though; I just couldn't dance. Never have been able to. I went to rock clubs because there was no requirement for rhythm on the dance floor. 'Dancing' at a rock club should only consist of bouncing round the gaff, holding a drink, in a circle of friends. If anything, it's just group-karaoke. So she'd try to dance with me and I would...I don't fucking know...I kinda swayed along like I was I uninterested.

Then on our actual first date, after leaving the pub to grab a taxi back to mine there was a guy passed out on the sidewalk. He had way too much to drink and decided to literally crash there, right outside of Tescos. She ran over and gave the guy first aid as I found out first hand that she was a nurse. All I was thinking was "Fucking hell, she's amazing!" followed up swiftly by "I'm a lethargic underachiever! Fuck!", which really put doubts in my head about a second date.

We're getting married next year and I'm still a lethargic underachiever. It's one of life's biggest mysteries.

As a wrestling-themed side note, for one of first dates after we were 'official' I had convinced her to go to an indy show. She knew next to nothing about wrestling apart from the general rules. First match featured Mark Andrews and I'll never forget the high-pitched squeel she made Andrews performed a shooting star press. Since then she tries to go every indy show I attend, she just loves the atmosphere and the characters and, most importantly, the flips'n'shit.

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I went on a second date with a girl last night (Saw the Pearl Harts who are superb by the way) she was 3 beers in before I turned up and just got progressively more hammered as the night went on. Had to help into an Uber at the end of the night and politely decline an invitation to go back to hers.

She was pretty cool on the first date but I think I'm out now.

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Not so much a date, but a few years back, I was out drinking, and got chatting to a very cute Thai girl (no, that's not where this story is going). Dancing, chatting, fun evening. She was mutual friends with some of the girls who worked in the cafe/restaurant at the Zoo I was working for at the time.

End of the night, she invites me back to her flat. Happy days.

Get back to her flat, and it's a one room bedsit thing, basically just a bedroom with something barely passing for a kitchen off to the side. She pulls out a couple of bottles of whiskey, and we drink and chat for another hour or two. Any subtle attempt to suggest we start wrapping things up and maybe move to the bed falls on deaf ears. 

Eventually - and God help me, I can't remember for the life of me how this comes up - she asks me to open a cupboard in the "kitchen" to show me something. Open it up, and there's a Buddhist shrine/altar in there - not particularly surprising in itself, under the circumstances. What is a bit of a shock is that, right in the middle of it all, is sitting a porcelain baby doll. She takes out the door, and starts cradling it while telling me how important children are to her. Occasionally, she speaks to the doll. All the while, I'm nervously sipping on my absurdly strong whiskey, having long since exhausted the mixer. It's now about 5am.

This continues. At one point, she hands the doll to me. I'm left cradling this doll, having no idea what's going on. I can't really remember anything she was saying at this point. I again, perhaps somewhat less subtly than before, make the suggestion that we get to bed...and she is now emphatic that I don't spend the night. I'd like to think at this point I might have pointed out that it's about 6am, the "spending the night" part has been and gone. But I probably just stare dumbfounded. 

Eventually, it's clear nothing at all is going to happen, and I make my excuses and live. Staggering and blinking into the light, I do my best to pretend that I haven't seen my former boss on her way to work moments after I leave the flat. 

Over the next few weeks, she texts me a few times, I bump into her on nights out, but I mostly keep my distance. Communication dries up, I stop seeing her, and years go by, barely remembering this night. I forget her name.

 

Then, earlier this year, I'm in a club. I'm at the bar, chatting to a mate as we get the drinks in. We start to walk back to the front of the club, to rejoin the group. Halfway there, I hear someone scream "PAAAAAAAATRICK~!". It's her. I freeze. I say to my mate, "Oh God, I don't even remember her name". He pats me on the back, and says, "well, she fucking remembers your's, mate" and sends me on my way.

I walk over to see her. She immediately pinches my cheek, and shouts, "YOU GOT FAT."

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